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Textbook Ebook Wayward Witch Zoraida Cordova All Chapter PDF
Textbook Ebook Wayward Witch Zoraida Cordova All Chapter PDF
Happy reading!
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Map
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Part II
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Part III
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Part IV
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Part V
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
Back Cover
For immigrants.
We get the job done!
Part I
The Deathday
1
—Claribelle and the Kingdom of Adas: Tales Tall and True, Gloriana
Palacios
I’m supposed to be the good one. The bruja who studies dusty
tomes and respects her magical lineage. The sister who doesn’t trap
her family in another dimension or raise an army of heart-chomping
zombies. The daughter who doesn’t talk back, flosses twice a day,
cleans her altar without being told to, takes out the trash, and
recites rezos to the gods before going to bed at midnight. If I were
the good one, I wouldn’t be hiding today of all days.
It is, after all, my Deathday and my birthday combined, and like
the average fifteen-year-old bruja, I’m spending the party in a
hallway pantry, sitting on a crate of Goya beans, with my dress
pockets full of chocolate candy bars. A low-hanging light bulb casts a
white glow over the open storybook on my lap.
“Have you seen Rose?” My mother asks someone from the other
side of the door.
I don’t know who she’s talking to, but they make a noncommittal
sound. Ma shouts my name, and I freeze mid-page-turn. After the
ceremony, I said I’d go change into party clothes and be right back,
and I had every intention of doing so. Mostly. But I started imagining
all those people—friends, family, and strangers—wanting to talk to
me. To look at me. To wonder why, after fifteen years of being an
ordinary bruja I am suddenly so interesting. That’s the word people
keep using, at least. Since I don’t have an answer, I decided to put
myself in time-out.
When my mom gives up and the hammering tap of heels dissolves
into echoes, I breathe a little easier. I flip to my bookmark and sigh.
I’ll read one more chapter and then go. I know. I know I can’t stay
in here forever.
If you ask me, and no one ever does, it’s too soon to celebrate my
freakish new abilities. I mean, one minute, I was a seer, speaking to
ghosts and the world beyond the Veil of the living. Now I’m
something completely different that no one in my family, our
network of brujas, or supernatural allies have ever heard of. There
isn’t even a name for it since I’ve forbidden everyone from calling
me a “magical hacker.” It’s a miracle our lives haven’t been
threatened for a whole six months, so I haven’t had to put my power
to the test. Honestly, I’m not so sure my family even wants me to
try.
Lula told me to enjoy the moments we get to be normal and
danger free, but there’s no “normal” when you’re a bruja. Unlike the
rest of the Mortiz family, I can’t pretend like the last year and half
hasn’t been filled with monsters and blood and guts and secret
societies and more resurrections than I am personally comfortable
with. We’ve just accepted Dad’s magical memory loss from the years
he was gone. Alex is all One with the Force after she accidentally
banished us to Los Lagos. Lula unleashed dead hordes across the
city, but no worries, she’s back to her old self again. Ma finally has
her family whole and together.
I’m the only one who seems to notice that there is something
wrong around here, but every time I work up the nerve to speak, I
convince myself that it’s all in my head. Things are peaceful. Things
are fine.
Aren’t they?
Sandals slap against the tiled hallway floor. I recognize the cadence
of her walk instantly. I hold in a sneeze brought on by pantry dust as
my eldest sister starts yelling for me.
“Rose Elizabeta Mortiz, get your bedazzled butt out here and
dance!” Lula manages to walk right past my hiding spot.
I sneeze, and a handful of pink and white petals fall between the
pages of my book. The flowers in my ceremonial crown are already
wilting. So much for fresh carnations. I’ve tried to undo the braid
Lula and Alex artfully twisted around my head with gold twine, but
they used so much hairspray and so many bobby pins that I only
managed to yank a few strands out by the root. I blow on the
petals. They scatter on the blush-pink tulle skirt of my dress, stuffed
around my feet.
The door opens, letting in the bright kitchen light and the rhythmic
tap of drums from the living room.
Lula purses her lips. There’s a flash of relief in her gray eyes before
she shouts, “Found her!”
Alex pokes her head around Lula’s body. Her brown hair is in a
braided ballerina bun, decorated with a glittering crescent moon. “I
told you she wouldn’t have been in the garage. That’s where all the
old folks are playing cards.”
“I have to say, I’m disappointed in your hide-and-seek skills.” I turn
the page of my book and clear my throat, hoping they’ll take the
hint and go away. “Good thing neither of you are going into search
and rescue for a living.”
“Um, rude,” Lula says, dusting her bare shoulder, but the pantry
dust only mixes with her body glitter. When she leans into the light,
the four claw marks that scar my sister’s face are iridescent as pearl.
Over the summer, she started accentuating them with colorful eye
shadow because she says people stare anyway, so she might as well
get creative. “There are too many rooms in this house. I keep
confusing the guest bathroom for the guest closet, which is not a fun
surprise when there are a hundred people in the house and no one
locks the door.”
“And yet”—I slam my book shut—“you managed to find me in the
only place I’ve been able to find some peace and quiet since the
ceremony finished.”
My sisters ignore me and shove their way in, party dresses and all.
I groan in protest when one of them steps on my foot and another
one jams an elbow in my ribs as they squeeze on either side of me
and close the door.
“Come on, Rosie!” Lula says. “You’re missing out. Tía Panchita says
she’s dancing with a ghost but really she’s had six cups of Tío Julio’s
coquito.”
If I were still connected to the Veil I could debunk her theory.
Instead, I ask, “Are you sure you haven’t had six cups of Tío Julio’s
coquito? Or is a certain thirsty hunter here?”
She elbows me, and in an attempt to move away, I slam into Alex,
who bumps into the supplies stacked on the shelves that surround
us. The jars wobble precariously, and a dozen of them tip forward. I
shield my face from the impact, but Alex thrusts her hands up,
conjuring a gust of wind. The chilly air funnels around us, and the
force of her magic sets every jar of spices and bird bones back into
place. When our arms brush against each other, I jump at the
electric charge of her lingering power.
Alex dusts her palms, and even in the dim light, her smug grin is
unmistakable. It’s a welcome change to the days when she rejected
anything that had to do with being a bruja. But now she’s just
showing off.
“Okay,” Alex says, “Why are you reading a book you’ve already
read a thousand times instead of enjoying your Deathday after-
party?”
As if on cue, a chorus of laughter filters from the living room,
followed by the scaling notes of a saxophone. I don’t know why my
parents insisted on hiring a real live salsa band to perform when the
only salsa I like is the chunky and spicy kind I can scoop up with
tortilla chips.
“Excuse you,” I say, frowning, “but if I remember correctly you
didn’t even want to have a Deathday, and we all know how that
turned out.”
“Rosie…” Alex says, the smugness completely gone. “You know I’m
sorry.”
Lula’s brows shoot up, her gray eyes darting between Alex and me.
Frustration knots in my throat. I know Alex regrets what she did.
Despite being the only encantrix in her generation, she is still a
cautionary tale brujas tell their children at night. How was she
supposed to know her canto would backfire? How could she have
known that her family was so intrinsically tied to her magic that
removing it would have been like trying to carve out an organ with a
butter knife? When Alex tried to cast her powers away, she changed
everything. Sometimes I want to blame her. If not for Alex, Lula
would have never tried to resurrect the dead. We wouldn’t have had
to fight for our lives and watch our home burn down and had to
move to Nowhere, Queens. I would still be a seer. Then again, if not
for Alex, we wouldn’t have Nova in our lives or Dad back.
In my heart, I know that if we were the kind of family that
verbalized our feelings, things might be different. But we bottle our
fears and sadness and sometimes even our joy. I know I’m no
different.
“I get it, you’re sorry. Look,” I say. I wish I was better at trying to
untangle my emotions because I don’t want to hurt my sister, either.
“All I’m asking for is an hour by myself. Conjuring dozens of
ancestral spirits doesn’t exactly make me want to get on the dance
floor and mambo.”
“What about perreo?” Lula muses, followed by Alex flicking the
bare skin of Lula’s arm.
“I’d rather not see a bunch of old brujas dirty dancing,” Alex
mutters. She nudges my shoulder playfully like we’re in on this
together. “I could tell you stories about Agosto that aren’t in this
book.”
“In the living room,” Lula offers brightly.
And Alex adds, “While we eat cake.”
“I don’t want your stories of Los Lagos,” I say, perhaps a little more
roughly than I meant to. I will always be a teeny tiny bit jealous that
Alex got to meet Agosto the Faun King in real life. Then I remember
that while she was running around Los Lagos, I was inside a ball of
energy waiting to get served up for dinner to an old hag. I tell
myself that Alex came through. She saved us. We saved her too.
“It’s just—I want my own, that’s all.”
Lula wraps her arm around my shoulder. She isn’t using her healing
magic on me—not exactly. She has a different kind of power that
usually calms me just by being near. The times I was holed up in
bed because the spirits whispering in my ear were too loud, Lula was
at my side, singing and brushing my hair to distract me. On the day
I found out I had to switch schools because we moved here, she
bought me a tray of cupcakes and didn’t even have one for herself. I
can think of a thousand more ways Lula is my rock. But I don’t want
that today.
“Rosie, come on,” she says. “I know being the center of attention
isn’t the most fun—”
Alex scrunches up her face and holds out her hand like she’s ready
to catch the lie in Lula’s words. “But you love being the center of
attention so…”
“This is true,” Lula admits, tapping a red nail against her chin.
“We’re still talking about a once-in-a-lifetime rite of passage. Like
sinmago parties. You had fun at Claudia Toloza’s quinceañera.”
“And you danced all night at Rishi’s sweet sixteen,” Alex chimes.
I grumble. “That’s different.”
“If I could do my Deathday over—” Alex starts to say, and that’s
when everything I feel tips over.
“First of all, I don’t need your philosophizing on the mistakes you
made and what you’d do over again,” I tell her. “I’m not you.”
Lula and Alex stare at each other and share a look only older
sisters can, like I’m acting petulant and unreasonable. But they don’t
see things the way I do. The frustration of it all makes me want to
scratch at the itch beneath my skin, the one that started ever since
my new magic appeared, but when I did that last night, I just
clawed my arms raw.
“Rose—” Lula starts.
“No, I need you guys to listen to me. Please,” I beg.
My sisters nod and remain quiet for a whole minute. Call the
Guinness Book of World Records.
I take a breath and say, “Ever since I was little, all I wanted was to
be like you guys. I never noticed that we weren’t like other families
because you never made me feel strange. We are who we are. But
lately, it’s like you’re all trying to make us something we’re not.”
“What do you mean?” Alex asks, her voice deep with worry.
“I mean me. You don’t know what it’s like to be me right now. You
don’t see what I see.”
They’re quiet again. They scratch their scalps and shift in their
glittering party dresses and sigh like they’re trying to understand but
there is something missing.
Lula brushes my stray baby hairs. “We can do more research into
your power, Rosie. I can ask the Alliance to try new sources—”
I let go of a long grunt. “No. I mean, it’s weird having this new
magic and I’d like to find out more about it, but it’s not just that.”
“Then what?” Alex asks, her brown eyes cast in long shadows from
above. “Talk to us.”
How am I supposed to know what to say? I know the ingredients
that will conjure luck and I can brew a potion to talk to the dead,
but no one ever taught me how to speak a truth that is
uncomfortable.
I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain what I’m
feeling. My sisters are pretending everything is square, just like our
parents. It’s like we got to the end of the storybook and everyone
has their happily-ever-afters. Our dad is back after having vanished
without a trace for over seven years. Alex claimed her magic. Lula
put the dead back to rest.
But am I the only one who notices the way Dad stares into space
like he’s forgotten where he is? I’ve woken in the middle of the night
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
Saltpeter, or niter, is a compound of this metal (or rather its oxide)
with nitric acid. It is one of the ingredients of gunpowder, and has the
property of quickening the combustion of all combustible bodies.
Mix some chlorate of potash with lump sugar, both being powdered,
and drop on the mixture a little strong sulphuric acid, and it will
instantly burst into flame. This experiment also requires caution.
Want of space precludes us from considering the individual metals
and their compounds in detail; it must suffice to describe some
experiments showing some of their properties.
The different affinities of the metals for oxygen may be exhibited in
various ways. The silver or zinc tree has already been described.
Experiments.
1. Into a solution of nitrate of silver in distilled water immerse a clean
plate or slip of copper. The solution, which was colorless, will soon
begin to assume a greenish tint, and the piece of copper will be
covered with a coating of a light gray color, which is the silver
formerly united to the nitric acid, which has been displaced by the
greater affinity or liking of the oxygen and acid for the copper.
2. When the copper is no longer coated, but remains clean and
bright when immersed in the fluid, all the silver has been deposited,
and the glass now contains a solution of copper.
Place a piece of clean iron in the solution, and it will almost instantly
be coated with a film of copper, and this will continue until the whole
of that metal is removed, and its place filled by an equivalent quantity
of iron, so that the nitrate of iron is found in the liquid. The oxygen
and nitric acid remain unaltered in quantity or quality during these
changes, being merely transferred from one metal to another.
A piece of zinc will displace the iron in like manner, leaving a solution
of nitrate of zinc.
Nearly all the colors used in the arts are produced by metals and
their combinations; indeed, one is named chromium, from a Greek
word signifying color, on account of the beautiful tints obtained from
its various combinations with oxygen and the other metals. All the
various tints of green, orange, yellow, and red, are obtained from this
metal.
Solutions of most of the metallic salts give precipitates with solutions
of alkalies and their salts, as well as with many other substances,
such as what are usually called prussiate of potash, hydro-sulphuret
of ammonia, etc.; and the colors differ according to the metal
employed, and so small a quantity is required to produce the color
that the solutions before mixing may be nearly colorless.
Experiments.
1. To a solution of sulphate of iron add a drop or two of a solution of
prussiate of potash, and a blue color will be produced.
2. Substitute sulphate of copper for iron, and the color will be a rich
brown.
3. Another blue, of quite a different tint, may be produced by letting a
few drops or a solution of ammonia fall into one of sulphate of
copper—a precipitate of a light blue falls down, which is dissolved by
an additional quantity of the ammonia, and forms a transparent
solution of the most splendid rich blue color.
4. Into a solution of sulphate of iron let fall a few drops of a strong
infusion of galls, and the color will become a bluish-black—in fact,
ink. A little tea will answer as well as the infusion of galls. This is the
reason why certain stuffs formerly in general use for dressing-gowns
for gentlemen were so objectionable; for as they were indebted to a
salt of iron for their color, buff as it was called, a drop of tea
accidentally spilt produced all the effect of a drop of ink.
5. Put into a largish test tube two or three small pieces of granulated
zinc, fill it about one-third full of water, put in a few grains of iodine
and boil the water, which will at first acquire a dark purple color,
gradually fading as the iodine combines with the zinc. Add a little
more iodine from time to time, until the zinc is nearly all dissolved. If
a few drops of this solution be added to an equally colorless solution
of corrosive sublimate (a salt of mercury) a precipitate will take place
of a splendid scarlet color, brighter if possible than vermilion, which
is also a preparation of mercury.
Crystallization of Metals.
Some of the metals assume certain definite forms in returning from
the fluid to the solid state. Bismuth shows this property more readily
than most others.
Experiment.
Melt a pound or two of bismuth in an iron ladle over the fire; remove
it as soon as the whole is fluid; and when the surface has become
solid break a hole in it, and pour out the still fluid metal from the
interior; what remains will exhibit beautifully-formed crystals of a
cubic shape.
Sulphur may be crystallized in the same manner, but its fumes, when
heated, are so very unpleasant that few would wish to encounter
them.
One of the most remarkable facts in chemistry, a science abounding
in wonders, is the circumstance, that the mere contact of hydrogen,
the lightest body known, with the metal platinum, the heaviest, when
in a state of minute division, called spongy platinum, produces an
intense heat, sufficient to inflame the hydrogen; of course this
experiment must be made in the presence of atmospheric air or
oxygen.
Time and space (or rather the want of them) compel us to conclude
with a few experiments of a miscellaneous character.
Experiments.
1. Make a strong solution of alum, or of sulphate of copper, or blue
vitriol, and place in them rough and irregular pieces of clinker from
stoves, or wire-baskets, and set them by in a cool place, where they
will be free from dust, and in a few days crystals of the several salts
will deposit themselves on the baskets, etc.; they should then be
taken out of the solutions, and dried, when they form very pretty
ornaments for a room.
2. Fill a Florence flask up to the neck with a strong solution of
sulphate of soda, or Glauber’s salt, boil it, and tie the mouth over
with a piece of moistened bladder while boiling, and set it by in a
place where it cannot be disturbed. After twenty-four hours it will
probably still remain fluid. Pierce the bladder covering with a
penknife, and the entrance of the air will cause the whole mass
instantly to crystallize, and the flask will become quite warm from the
latent caloric, of which we have spoken before, given out by the salt
in passing from the fluid to the solid state. It is better to prepare two
or three flasks at the same time, to provide against accidents, for the
least shake will often cause crystallization to take place before the
proper time.
Gunpowder.
It will not be very advisable for the firework boy to make his own
powder, but still it will not be amiss that he should know how it is
prepared. Pulverize separately 5 drams of nitrate of potass, 1 dram
of sulphur, and 1 dram of newly-burnt charcoal; mix them together in
a mortar, with a little water, so as to make the compound into a
dough, which roll out into round pieces of the thickness of a pin upon
a slab. This must be done by moving a board backwards and
forwards until the dough is of a proper size. When three or four of
these pieces are ready put them together, and cut them off into small
grains. Place these grains on a sheet of paper, in a warm place,
where they will soon dry, but away from a fire. During granulation the
dough must be prevented from sticking by using a little of the dry
compound powder. This mode of granulation, though tedious, is the
only one to be used for so small a quantity for the sake of
experiment. In making powder in a large way it is granulated by
passing the composition through sieves.
To Make Crackers.
Cut some stout cartridge-paper into pieces three inches and a half
broad and one foot long, fold down one edge of these pieces
lengthwise about three-quarters of an inch broad, then fold the
double edge down a quarter of an inch, and turn the single edge
back half over the double fold. Open it, and lay all along the channel
which is formed by the folding of the paper some meal powder, then
fold it over and over till the paper is doubled up, rubbing it down at
every turn; this being done bend it backwards and forwards two
inches and a half, or thereabouts, at a time, as often as the paper
will allow. Hold all these folds flat and close, and with a small
pinching cord give one turn round the middle of the cracker and
pinch it close; bind it with pack thread as tight as you can, then in the
place where it was pinched prime one end and cap it with touch-
paper.
When these crackers are fired they will give a loud report at every
turn of the paper: if you want a great number of these, you have only
to cut the paper longer, or join it on to a greater length; but if they are
made very long you must have a piece of wood with a groove in it
deep enough to let in half the cracker, which will hold it straight while
you are pinching it.
Rockets.
There are several recipes for making rockets, the best of which is 3
ounces of charcoal, 6 of sulphur, 8 of niter, 32 of meal powder.
Another very good one is, 3 ounces of iron filings, 4 of powdered
charcoal, 8 of sulphur, 16 of niter, and 64 of meal powder. If a
smaller quantity is wanted divide each proportion by 2, if a still
smaller divide by 4.
Rains.
Sometimes gold or silver rains are added to rockets, which give them
a very beautiful appearance. A gold rain is made of 2 parts sawdust,
4 sulphur, 4 meal powder, 6 glass dust, 16 niter, in all 32 parts. A
silver rain may be made of 2 parts salt prunella, 8 sulphuret of
antimony, 8 sulphur, 8 meal powder, and 14 niter, in all 32 parts.
Catherine Wheels.
These are very pretty fireworks, and are made to turn on a pivot.
There are many recipes for the composition of which they are
formed; 1 part camphor, 1 sulphur, 1 niter, 2 meal powder. Another
is, 3 parts iron filings, 4 sulphur, 12 niter, 16 meal powder. This
composition is to be rammed into small cases, and bound round a
small wheel having a hole for a pivot in the center.
Crimson Fire.
The principal ingredient in this is nitrate of strontium, of which 40
parts are taken, with 13 of sulphur, 15 of chlorate of potass, 4 of
sulphuret of antimony, and 2 of lamp-black. These, as all the
ingredients for the other fires, should be rubbed in a ladle, and they
may be used in a ladle or iron dish set on the ground.
Blue Fire.
The ingredients of blue fire are 20 parts; 12 of niter, 4 of sulphur, 2 of
sulphuret of antimony, and 2 of lamp-black.
Green Fire.
The ingredients for green fire are in 54 parts; 42 of nitrate of barytes,
8 of sulphur, 3 of chlorate of potass, and 1 of lamp-black.
Purple Fire.
The best recipe for purple fire is of 60 parts; 25 of niter, 25 of nitrate
of strontium, 7 of sulphur, 2 of realgor, and 1 of lamp-black.
White Fire.
The best and purest white fire is made of 24 parts of niter, 7 of
sulphur, 2 of red arsenic, and one of lamp-black.
Spur Fire.
9 parts of niter, 4 of sulphur, and 3 of lamp-black, well rubbed
together.
Blue Lights.
These are made of 4 parts of sulphur, 2 of niter, and 1 of powder,
and are rammed into squib-cases the contrary way.
Port or Wildfires.
Saltpeter 4 parts, meal powder 6 parts, and sulphur 3 parts. The
composition to be moistened with linseed-oil.
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Containing full instructions for playing all the standard American
and German games, together with rules and systems of sporting
in use by the principal bowling clubs in the United States. By
Bartholomew Batterson. Price 10 cents. For sale by all
newsdealers in the United States and Canada, or sent to your
address, postage free, on receipt of the price. Address Frank
Tousey, publisher, New York.
Secret Service.
Old and Young King Brady, Detectives.